


Veratrum: After the Inquest

by Dimity Blue (Arnie)



Category: And Then There Were None (TV 2015), And Then There Were None - Christie
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 01:26:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14557848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arnie/pseuds/Dimity%20Blue
Summary: And so, here she was. Her professional reputation in tatters and her chances of employment frighteningly small.





	Veratrum: After the Inquest

Vera doesn't need to hear the whispers to know what's being said.

"Careless."

"Negligent."

The inquest cleared her name but the stigma lingers.

Marriage to Hugo would have saved her from all that. What did her professional reputation matter once she didn't need to work? But Hugo had realised what she'd done - not that he saw the truth of it. "I did it for _you!_ " she'd wanted to tell him, but that was a confession she could never make. Not to him.

And so, here she was. Her professional reputation in tatters and her chances of employment frighteningly small.

"I'm afraid we have no vacancies for a P.E. teacher." The secretary at the agency - a Miss J. Plunkett, according to the letters on her desk - was polite but distant, her gaze sliding away from Vera's as though afraid of contamination.

"I can teach other subjects." Vera doesn't want to beg but her savings are all but gone and she won't be able to pay next week's rent. She hadn't saved enough when she could have, and the months since the inquest have drained what was left.

"I'm afraid not."

Vera refuses to accept the polite dismissal. "There must be something. Please." The last word is almost blurted out and she knows her desperation is showing, but the woman's attitude is wavering, she can tell. Perhaps it's to do with the season - good will to all men, even teachers who let their charge drown. Vera doesn't know and doesn't really care, as long as she finds a job.

After a moment, Miss Plunkett reaches for a stack of cards and flicks through to almost the last one. She makes a few notes on a writing pad and hands the sheet over. Vera tries to take it, then looks up as it's withheld.

"We don't..." Miss Plunkett pauses, as if searching for the words, then, "The school has a high rate of turnover."

Vera knows what that means. The teachers there are underpaid and overworked; no decent teacher would consider working there. However, Vera no longer counts as a decent teacher and any job is better than starving in the street. She forces a smile as Miss Plunkett relinquishes the paper. "I understand. Thank you." She ignores the faint sigh that follows her to the door.

Once outside, Vera rushes to a phonebox and calls the school. Term-time starts in just over a week; there'll be someone to answer the phone. There is and Vera gets an appointment for an interview the very next morning, though she notices the pause after she gives her name.

St. Cecilia's address is in a quiet suburb not that far away. There's an omnibus that takes her most of the way and Vera walks the rest, looking around the area as she goes. It's barely middle class, from what she can see. There'll be maids of all work in most of the houses; little worn out drudges who can't find decent jobs. Poorly trained and poorly paid. One of them opens the school door to her and takes her to the school secretary's office. The woman there looks busy, but she takes the time to offer Vera a seat.

"Do sit down. It's Miss Claythorne, isn't it? I'm Miss Wilton - Daisy Wilton. Miss Devon will be along shortly. Beastly cold, isn't it?"

Vera agrees. Even with her expensive coat - far too expensive; what a fool she was - the cold has a bite to it that's hard to ignore.

"I could have been at home today," Miss Wilton continues, pulling the neck of a thick cardigan higher, "but the Head called me in. I don't mind; it means more pay. You know we don't get paid for holidays, don't you?"

"Yes, I know." Vera didn't but she isn't surprised. Decent schools charged enough to ensure their staff were paid all year round. It didn't hurt that it also ensured loyalty.

The door opens and a tall, well-dressed woman comes in. Miss Wilton stands and so does Vera. Politeness costs nothing but can have its rewards.

"Miss Claythorne." Miss Devon ignores Miss Wilton's attempts at introducing her. "Follow me." The room she takes Vera into is far nicer than the office, and far warmer. It's easy to guess where the profits go. "Your references, please. Take a seat."

Vera hands over her references and sits down.

After a long pause, Miss Devon lowers the pages. "Your references are excellent. St. Margaret's too, I see. We don't normally get their teachers here. Of course, there is the matter of the inquest. Fortunately, we have no swimming facilities."

Vera knew it was coming, so the comment is no surprise. A woman like Miss Devon wouldn't let an opportunity like that pass by.

"Naturally, this affects the wages I can pay you."

Of course it does. Vera expected that too. The sum, when mentioned, is less than half her wage at St. Margaret's - it's pitifully low, even for a school like St. Cecilia's. Vera bites back her irritation at being taken advantage of; she needs the money to keep a roof over her head and give her food to live on. Her wages will cover that and little else. If St. Cecilia's had been a boarding school, those expenses would have been covered.

"Term-time starts on Monday. I shall expect you at seven thirty. Do not be late."

Once outside, Vera sighs and starts the walk back to the omnibus. She'll have to go without a few meals to pay for her fares to and from school before her first wage is paid, but at least she won't be living on the street. As she walks, she works out how much money she can save to support herself during the holidays. Easter will be manageable but the long summer holiday won't. She'll have to find another job then, whether she returns to St. Cecilia's in the autumn or not. At least she'll have a few months of grace before then. And, who knew, a decent job might turn up somehow.

The end.


End file.
